Twelve Roses
by Amarxlen
Summary: Roses are very important on Valentine's Day, don't you know?
1. Weeds

**A/N:** A day late. Oh well. Happy Valentine's Day?

_Weeds  
Amarxlen_

Sasuke never really liked roses—never saw the point in the bundles of flowers (_always in dozens_) that lay on his porch every February fourteenth.

Why roses? Who decided that? Why twelve? What was significant about that number?

He never really understood why they would be left on his front porch, even if he couldn't help but be vaguely (_not really_) impressed that all those girls would brave the Uchiha compound, full of ghosts as it was.

Now, Uchiha Sasuke wasn't _completely_ heartless (_not nearly as much as he pretended_), so once a year, every February fourteenth, he would wake up earlier than usual to begin bringing them inside.

He would place them around his house, offhandedly reading the cards spouting declarations of love and mushy sayings, always signed, (_he rolled his eyes often_) before tossing them into his fireplace.

And there, in their scattered positions sitting on his furniture and spilling onto his floor they would stay until the day they wilted when they would, bunch by bunch, be thrown unceremoniously into his trash can.

He had no doubt that this year would be no different as he slipped into his bed and lay there, listening with paranoid expectation. And sometime in the middle of his silent vigil his eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep.

Just as he had expected, when he woke up his porch was covered with roses, vases, red hearts and ribbons and boxes of chocolate and he scowled (_he hated sweets_). So, after dressing quickly, he began the tedious task of hauling all the flowers (_no better than weeds_) into his home, sifting through the cards that accompanied them.

Perhaps there were less this year, or maybe the time just went by faster, but in no time at all he was carrying the last bundle of flowers (_crudely tied together with red ribbon and slightly crumpled_) into his house.

And as he placed them upon his kitchen table, he frowned. Reluctantly, he lifted them back up and searched in between the stems, before placing them back on the table. Frowning deeper now, he retraced his steps to the front door and quickly scanned the ground.

If he wasn't mistaken (_and why would he be?_) there was no card accompanying these roses. Slowly he made his way back into his home and, almost without thinking about it yanked free a bundle of roses (_from a girl he didn't even know_) from their vase and replaced them with the crudely tied together and slightly crumpled bunch.

With every bundle of flowers there was _always_ a card or note. This ownerless cluster was vaguely (_almost extremely_) disturbing to him, but he had no time to brood over it as he realized he would be late to meeting Team Seven if he didn't leave now.

---

"Sasuke-kun?" (_Shut up_.) "Are you okay? You seem... out of it."

"Hn." (_I'm fine_.) Truth be told, the ownerless bouquet had been sitting in the back of his mind all day, glaring at him. It was due to this that he almost missed that Naruto seemed distracted too.

Sasuke watched as Naruto sidled—wait. Naruto wasn't moving closer to Sakura, wasn't asking her on a date, wasn't bombarding her with some ridiculous gift meant to woo her.

Sasuke watched as Naruto _didn't_ edge towards Sakura, and felt his features twist into a deeper frown than usual. And if Sasuke hadn't been watching the blond closely, he would have missed the small piece of paper (_huh?_) that fluttered from an orange pocket.

Glad that Sakura had sped up a bit when Sasuke refused to answer her, he reached down and grasped the square paper between pale fingers. Eyes darting up to check that neither of his teammates was about to turn around, he unfolded it and quickly read the chicken scratch (_what awful handwriting_) words.

And had to read them again.

And again.

And then he looked up.

_"Happy Valentine's Day, teme."_

Sasuke never really liked roses—never saw the point in the bundles of flowers (_always in dozens_) that lay on his porch every February fourteenth.

But there was something different (_honest, real_) about them when they came from the blond.


	2. Wilting

_Wilting  
Amarxlen_

Maybe he kept them too long, he thinks as he frowns at the bouquet sitting on the nightstand in his bedroom.

Absentmindedly his fingers caress the red blossoms as he stares past them and contemplates when one should throw out their roses, despite the sentimental value.

Because they're not completely red anymore. They're wilting and the petals are separating from each other. The edges are turning black, like a flame is licking at them and he winces as the dried out rim crumbles under his touch.

Gingerly, he pulls his hand away and assesses the flower that collapsed, before sighing and wiping the rose dust onto his floor.

And again he's brought back to his dilemma.

When does one throw out their flowers?

"You still have those?" Startled, the blond falls off his bed with enough force to make the vase on his nightstand rattle.

"Sasuke!" he says as he rises from the floor, because he knows that voice anywhere. Without a word, the raven hops into the room, automatically sitting upon the bed. Naruto watches as Sasuke reaches out a pale hand to mimic the blonde's earlier actions of stroking the petals.

"You still have these?" He asks again, frowning slightly, his gaze moving from the wilting flowers to the now blushing blond.

"Obviously," Naruto snaps, becoming irritated. The Uchiha says it like he _shouldn't_ still have them. And for a moment Naruto stares defiantly at Sasuke, while Sasuke stares back with an undecipherable expression. Then Sasuke turns his attention back to the roses, where the edge of another flower has turned to dust.

"But they're wilting," he points out, holding his hand out to Naruto to show him the blackened powder that rests in his palm. Slowly, the blond reaches up and scatters the residue across the raven's hand with his forefinger.

"I know that," he says, looking up into Sasuke's face.

"But," he turns towards the roses, and somehow they're holding hands as Naruto maneuvers to get more comfortable, back resting against Sasuke's legs.

"I'm not sure if I should get rid of them yet." He tilts his head up to look at Sasuke and finds the raven staring down at him.

"I don't want to get rid of them," he confesses and barely gets the sentence out before Sasuke's free hand is gently repositioning his face and his lips are covered with the raven's own.

He thinks he could have stayed there forever, drowning in the Uchiha's warmth and never needing to breathe, but eventually Sasuke pulls away and rests his forehead against blond spikes and tan skin.

"If you care about them that much, I'll just have to get you more," he promises.

"Really?" Naruto asks, and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face. The raven doesn't answer, just gives him one of his rare and sincere smiles and that's all the assurance Naruto needs as he gets up, grabs his flowers and with a deep breath relinquishes them to the trash can.

"I'll hold you to that," he says with a serious expression before rushing back to Sasuke's waiting arms.


End file.
